It's the Little Things
by NerdAngel
Summary: A Chrstmas one shot. Takes place during season 11 before episode "Into the Mystic."


**A/n: It's that time of year again where I step out of whatever project I've been working on and focus on the Christmas season. As some of you may notice, I didn't really do that this year and so instead of having a Christmas mini story I have a Christmas one shot. This one takes place in season 11 before episode "Into the Mystic." I hope you all enjoy this little one shot I put together.**

It's the Little Things

"Sammy?!" Dean called out as he made his way towards where he'd last seen his brother. A muffled response caught his attention and immediately the elder Winchester darted towards it as fast as the snow would allow him. He found Sam practically buried in a heap of white and quickly got to work on helping him. He grabbed onto his sibling's jacket and heaved him up into sitting position. The younger man was covered from head to toe in snow, shaking his brown hair and staring up at his brother with big hazel eyes.

"You good?" Dean asked him. Sam didn't say anything, just simply nodded still trying to catch his breath. The elder hunter patted his sibling on the shoulder reassuringly and then sprinted off in the direction of where they had seen the creature they had been hunting retreat to. Grunting and groaning, Sam managed to get to his feet, retrieve his handgun which had sprung from his grasp when he had fallen unexpectedly into a rather deep and frankly dangerous sink hole, and he took off after his brother. His weapon was held at the ready as he slowed his pace and crouched down slightly. The only sound he could hear was the crunching of snow beneath his boots as he crept. Sam kept an eye out for any sign of motion as well as focused on any sound that wasn't him moving. Just as he was starting to round a heavily wooded corner, he was knocked to the ground by something solid. Sam went down into the snow yet again and this time, he wasn't alone. The monster popped into his line of sight and quickly began to wrap his hands around Sam's neck, forcing him down deeper into the snow as he did. The younger Winchester tried to pull himself free of the creature's grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. Finally, just as Sam's eyes started to roll in the back of his head, there was a sound of a gun discharging quickly followed by another and another. The creature stopped and collapsed, falling forward onto Sam who's face and clothes were now decorated in its blood. He shoved the body off of him, still trying to make up for lost breath and swiped his jacket sleeve across his cheek with an agitated look. The sound of boots in the snow brought the younger man's gaze to fall on Dean as he approached him.

"Making snow angels?" He teased lightheartedly. Sam glared unamused at his brother's joke and got to work on lifting himself up once more from the cold ground. The elder Winchester lowered his hand to help him up, but it was declined. "Alright, let's bury this thing and get the hell outta dodge."

A few hours later, the body had been buried and burned and the brothers were on their way back to the bunker.

"C-C-Can't this thing g-go up any h-h-higher?" Sam shivered as he reached for the heat control in the car.

"Baby's good, but she's no spring chicken. You've gotta respect your elders, especially when they've treated you as good as she has." Dean patted the dashboard of the Impala lovingly. "Sorry hermano, this is as high as she goes."

The taller man threw his sibling an angry glare; but if the elder Winchester noticed, which Sam was certain he did, he didn't acknowledge him. The younger hunter curled up into himself more as his body continued to shake with cold. He tried to aim the air vents so that what little heat it did give off hit his face. His ears, nose, fingers, and toes were numb. The taller man tried a few methods to keep his hands warm bouncing between sticking them under his armpits, to breathing warm air into them, to holding them in front of the vents, to rubbing them together. Unfortunately it was six of one half dozen of the other for Sam, none of his tactics seemed to help.

"Oh c'mon, it's not that cold orphan Annie," the elder Winchester teased.

"Y-you d-d-didn't get b-b-buried alive in s-snow," the younger countered. "T-twice."

"That's because I'm that good."

"N-no, it's bec-c-cause my foot f-found a sinkhole the f-first time and I was at-tacked the second."

Dean chuckled at the memory of the first one which only caused the bitchface Sam was giving him to deepen.

"It's n-not f-f-funny," he protested.

"It's a little funny."

"N-no, it's n-n-not."

"That's just because it happened to you. From where I was it was like a magician pulling a rabbit from his hat, but instead of a rabbit it was a sasquatch and instead of a hat it was a sinkhole."

"S-screw y-y-you."

The rest of the car ride consisted mostly of Sam's teeth chattering while he continued to ping-pong his various ways to warm himself. Dean threw quick glances a few times in his little brother's direction, checking to make sure he was alright. Of all days to not have a spare jacket or blanket in the car, it had to be this one. He pressed his foot down harder on the gas pedal trying to hurry home as fast as he could. It had been funny when he was digging his agitated and embarrassed little yet giant brother out from the sink hole, but Dean didn't want hypothermia to kick in and after two mishaps in the snow and the constant shivering he knew already the ice cold had seeped through his sibling's clothing and had reached his skin.

Sam had never been so happy to see the bunker as he was when Dean pulled up to it. The bloody and bitter brother climbed out of the Chevy and marched off towards his room still shivering.

"Try not to use up all of the hot water, huh?" The elder Winchester shouted. Sam didn't answer, only grabbed new clean dry clothes and then made his way into the bathroom. Closing the door as he went.

The warm water, though biting and burning at first when it met freezing cold skin, felt good on his aching body and he stood under the shower head for a good several minutes allowing the blood that covered him to wash away and his body to defrost before grabbing the shampoo bottle and washing his hair.

Sam re-emerged feeling relaxed and refreshed, his towel still wrapped around his head as he scrubbed it through his hair and scalp trying to dry it. The bunker was always on the colder side being that it was below ground level and the last thing he wanted to be dealing with was a cold. By the time he reached his room, his hair was dried the best he could and the towel now laid across his neck with either end resting on his broad shoulders like an untied tie or scarf. As he stepped further in, something caught his eye. He froze, tilting his head slightly as he continued to stare at an unexpected item laying on his bed that hadn't been there before his shower. A small sloppily wrapped brown paper package was resting up against Sam's headboard while being cradled by his pillow. Curiosity finally pulled him from his spot and he tossed his wadded up dirty bloody clothes off to the side and approached the object. He carefully collected the package and turned it over, eyeing the tape work with a grin. Gently, as to not break what was inside, he began to unwrap it, following the adhesive as a way to keep things neat and avoid risking any accidental damage. Once the paper had been removed fully, which Sam had recognized as the same brown paper used at gas stations for purchased snacks or beverages, he stood staring at the object that now sat in plain sight in his hand. A smirk slid across his face that soon grew into a full toothy smile. To anyone else, it was nothing special, nothing even remotely interesting. Well, not including apparently a bunch of music theater high school girls. The resemblance was pretty accurate, more so then he had originally thought. After all, it was just meant to be a silly prop for a play. An accessory worn that to anyone else, would be a means to add some kind of flare to what most would consider a pretty regular unimaginative unoriginal bland costume design. But to the director, it was a piece that symbolized the Winchester brothers and their impregnable bond and love that they share.

Sam rubbed his thumb across the painted wooden face affectionately. The piece was lopsided, no doubt about it. It was far from correct in proportions and even the face was a bit off, but to the younger Winchester with all its imperfections, it couldn't be more perfect. When he looked down at the opened package again he noticed there was a folded up white piece of paper with it. Still holding onto what had been referred to as the "Samulet," he reached down and unfolded it. Written in hand writing Sam would know anywhere and at a time not too long ago had dreaded, was a message that was anything but dreadful.

 _Sammy,_

 _I've noticed you eyeing the thing since we got it so I thought, what the hell. Merry Christmas Bitch._

His eyes moved from the paper to his watch where sure enough, under the time, the date 12/25 sat in black bulky numbers. He'd completely forgotten about what today was, though in his defense, the brothers hadn't celebrated Christmas together since before Dean went to Hell.

Sam's smile faded and he bit his lip nervously as his mind raced trying to think of something he could do in return. It was already getting late and most stores were closed or if they weren't they would be soon.

His eyes moved back to the Samulet in the palm of his hand which he lightly bounced subconsciously as he thought. When he still couldn't think of something, Sam wandered to where he kept a wooden box he had come across while cleaning up the bunker when they had first stumbled upon it, and pulled it from its hiding spot. Making his way back to sit on his bed, he carefully opened the keepsake holder and peered inside.

To anyone who wasn't him, it was full of nothing but junk. A foul ball that Dean had caught at the JayHawks games they had attended on Sam's seventeen birthday, a deck of cards he had picked up at a quick stop out of impulse, a Zippo he decided he would rather hold onto then use, his first wallet, a CD Amelia had given him from a band he rarely got to listen to being that Dean was usually always driver and driver always got to choose the music. Not to mention the Impala only had a cassette player. Some items he'd come across or had been given to him by others as thanks or thinking of him and some of which had just caught his eye on a hunt. Each trinket had a story, a memory linked to it that was unlocked every time the box lid was lifted and they were exposed. Every item in it meant something to him rather it had played a big part or small part hadn't truly mattered, they were all little things that one way or another meant something to him and he wasn't sure he could part with any of them. More importantly, they wouldn't mean much of anything to Dean who didn't even know about Sam's keepsake box and hopefully never would. He could hear his brother teasing him already if he ever came across it or found him with it.

"Hey Samatha, you keep your tampons in there too? Or do you prefer pads?"

If Sam could help it, he would spare himself that harassment. After digging around and coming up empty, Sam huffed, gently placed the Samulet into the box with the rest of his precious moments, closed the lid, brushed a hand over the scratched up black painted wood top affectionately dusting off any dust that may have accumulated on it, and returned it to its rightful spot. As he tucked it away, something else caught his attention. His eyebrows knitted together and he reached towards his dresser where a few of his most beloved objects were resting. He had forgotten all about them and it had been evident that since they were not in his hidden box of memories that he had been too busy to actually stash them away properly. An epiphany struck the younger Winchester brother in that moment and he quickly but gingerly snatched them up with a grin.

XXX

As he had figured, Sam found Dean sitting with his legs outstretched, feet resting on the table crossed at the ankles at the Men of Letters study table, and a glass of whiskey in his hand as his green eyes stared off in front of him clearly lost in thought about something. His head turned to acknowledge his brother as Sam came into view. He removed his feet one at a time so that he was sitting at the table properly and grabbed a glass bottle that continued the same whiskey that was in his glass. Dean raised it and an eyebrow in Sam's direction and the younger man pulled up the chair across from him. The elder Winchester began to pour another cup and topped off his own before sliding the glass at his sibling.

"Feeling better Princess?" Dean questioned. Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Much. Thanks." The elder hunter nodded. Sam wasn't sure if he understood the full extent of that, but he knew his brother better than the back of his own hand. A sappy thank you for an already pretty sappy sentimental object would only cause Dean to become uncomfortable, subtle was the way to go when it came to his tough as nails sibling. Although Dean was never one to turn down a hug from his little brother, Sam also knew there was a time and a place for it. This didn't seem like one of those times. He seemed distracted by something or at the very least he was in more of the silently sit while drinking and enjoying the company mood then he was a big chick flick moment and mention of the fact that it was a holiday. So, having been able to read the elder Winchester like an open book with large font, he sat with him. He raised his glass towards his lips but before he could drink, his sibling's glass was extended out towards him catching his eye. Sam looked at it then up at his brother who was giving him a content smirk. Something about Dean's smile, much like his laughter, was contagious to the younger Winchester and he felt his own lips turn up mirroring his sibling's. They clinked their glasses together in their usual toast to another successful hunt and drank.

XXX

An hour passed before Sam downed the rest of his drink, cleared his throat, and pushed himself to his feet.

"I think I'm gonna turn in for the night," he announced. Dean nodded and remained seated.

"Alright grandma," he teased into his glass. Sam only huffed a laugh and smiled turning away.

"Night," he shouted back over his shoulder as he headed back down towards his bedroom.

"Night."

Dean continued to sit in the silence a while longer before he finished his whiskey, got up, and headed to his room. Making a pit stop into the kitchen where he placed the empty glasses into the sink.

Part of him didn't feel tired but another part of him was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lay down and get some rest. The elder Winchester stepped into his room, flicking on the light before closing the door behind him. Once his clothes were removed and more sleep appropriate clothes were put on, Dean made a beeline for his memory foam mattress and its sheets which seemed to be beckoning to him now that he was there. However before he could so much as sit on his bed, he stopped. Resting on his pillow was an unmarked envelope. He picked it up, flipped it over, and opened it. Inside had been a piece of white paper folded in threes. The elder Winchester unfolded it and a smile spread across his lips and lit up his green eyes.

A picture of a younger Dean smiling at something was in his grasp. Standing across from the late twenties Dean in the photo, was an early twenties Sam finding whatever had made his big brother smile, funny enough to warrant a chuckle of his own to grace his features. A closer look would tell that it had been a moment caught where something said or done had been funny or amusing to the elder brother and the look that illuminated the younger was just the right moment the picture had been shot by their surrogate father and was actually his reaction to seeing his sibling so at ease and happy. It had been a photo where the boys had just been boys. Two brothers sharing a moment that for the life of him, Dean couldn't remember what had been so damn funny. But he wished he could. There had been so much, too much that had happened between that picture and now that he couldn't even begin to guess what had led to that, and that was saying a lot. Dean was usually pretty proud of his memory, he could remember a lot of things. Classic rock lyrics, names of creatures, what kills what creature, exorcisms as well as some other incantations, stories from when they had been kids, stories about their father and even those he had been told about his deceased mother if he caught John in the right mood. He was pretty good about remembering the names of women he slept with, information and knowledge about cars and how to fix them properly, all the deaths that have consumed his life starting from their mother dating back thirty-two years ago to their most recent. He remembered the past he and his brother had had, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. But through all that he could recall, he couldn't for the life of him remember what had caused that moment of contentment.

He moved the picture into the back and brought up the next one in line. This one was an even younger Sam and Dean where a teenage Sam had been sitting so that his arms were on the back of a chair with his chin resting on his hands and a smug grin on his face. Leaning in next to him with his right arm around Sam's shoulder, was a twenty year old Dean with a mischievous side smirk. The elder Winchester remembered this one. It had been taken by Bobby Singer once again on Sam's sixteenth birthday. The reason for the look he had been wearing was due to him knowing that he and Bobby had allowed an underaged Sam to have a beer. It hadn't been his first, but it wasn't an opportunity he had been given often. In the hand that was not around his sibling, Dean had been holding his own El Sol. A slightly buzzed young Dean hadn't thought much of it, but Bobby having remembered that even the eldest Winchester was not of legal drinking age, made sure to snap the picture with the hand holding the bottle not in it. Dean chuckled at the memory before moving on.

He flipped to the next photo which was of a four year old Dean holding Sammy for the first time. A large proud smile filled his face as he looked into the camera while his baby brother stared up at him. The elder Winchester remembered this one like it had happened only yesterday. This had been taken the day John and Mary had returned home from the hospital. He had been so excited to finally be a big brother, to finally have someone to play with. Dean could recall how he had felt the second his arms had been filled with the weight of a tiny human whom from the moment Sammy had been placed within them, there had been a connection unlike anything he'd ever felt and he knew right then that his baby brother meant more to him than anyone would ever know.

Dean set down the photos so that he could read what was on the paper. Scribbled out in handwriting that would be legible to anyone who wasn't Dean, was a message that though short, meant as much to him as the heartfelt gifts he had received.

 _Right back atcha Jerk._

 **A/n: Merry Christmas everyone!**


End file.
